Tell A Story

I will find somewhere my life’s story
flung in the bushes.
A rock without any form but being a rock.
From that I can construct
the flesh and blood of sorrow,
the flash of laughter
from the quartz face of a star.
All part of revelation,
love at first sight,
a falcon I saw sweep through the sky
just now,
aimless fear fluffing its feathers
in my thoughts.
Taking a vitamin for communion,
and saying I’m sorry for poking God
where it hurts.

I used to have a philosophy,
but changing its water everyday
became a chore.
So I drift, I waffle,
I overeat and fast,
and tell myself,
life is a gigantic sob
and shout of joy,
for all the impossible love
showered on me,
and a voice inside saying
it loves me, it loves me not,
it loves me, it loves me not,
it loves me.